


In the Words of Another

by IchijouKenichiro



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Gigolas Week 3, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-03
Updated: 2015-12-03
Packaged: 2018-05-04 18:03:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5343404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IchijouKenichiro/pseuds/IchijouKenichiro
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gimli often speaks in Khuzdul. Legolas longs to know what Gimli won't tell him. Maybe the only way to figure it out is to learn to speak some Khuzdul himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the Words of Another

**Author's Note:**

> For Gigolas Week 3, Prompt Languages and Writing.
> 
> Translations of Khuzdul and Sindarin available by hovering your mouse over the text.
> 
> Thank you to Pazithigallifreya for taking a look at the beginning of this story. The end is not beta-ed, so I apologize for any major mistakes that I did not catch in review.
> 
> Edit: And thank you to those lovely people that found the coding issue. It is all fixed now. >__

“Lai, undu ala lukhud fillu,   
Tatkuti,  
Attam takluti ra ala kazlîn tagrafi gagin,”  murmured Gimli as he lay in Legolas’ arms amongst the bright green ferns and atop a carpet of thick soft moss.

Legolas turned his head and asked lightly, “Hmm?”

Gimli just sighed pleasantly, shaking his head, and let his eyes flutter closed in answer. Then he settled down half on Legolas’ shoulder and half on his chest. 

Legolas smiled and brushed the splayed red hairs of Gimli’s head and beard that brushed the side of his face. He felt content to be beneath the trees of Fangorn with his lover half naked in his arms. He waited as Gimli fell into a slumber, enjoying the sound of his deep breathing. 

Legolas began to hum lightly in time to the steady beating of his dwarf’s heart, his mind trying to piece together what words Gimli might have uttered in his postcoital bliss. He had heard Gimli speak in dwarvish before, of course, but never were the words explained. So he wondered what their significance, if any, might be. 

When some hours had passed, Legolas laid Gimli gingerly down upon the ground, covered him with a cloak, and slipped off. He climbed up a tall tree and sang to the stars, hoping to lead his mind towards some answers. He and Gimli had never talked about their relationship openly, which at times stirred uneasiness within him. They shared intimate time together, but Legolas did not allow them to take the final step that would bind them for the rest of their lives together. He feared that while he would be committed long term, that perhaps dwarves might have different customs. At his age, he was doubtful he would find another whom he would love so much. He knew that if he were to give himself to Gimli and later be rejected it would destroy him.

He saw the first light of day breaking over the edge of the treeline and climbed back down to where he had left Gimli. Legolas slipped his arms back around Gimli and let himself drift off to sleep until they could awaken again together.  
\-----

“Watch your head in this next section, my princeling, the ceiling gets low even for dwarves,” said Gimli, extending a hand to Legolas.

Legolas smiled in the dimness of the lantern light, slipping his fingers into the gloved hand and bent down to enter the low crawl space. “Thank you, Meleth nin.”

“Once we get past the low section, it’ll open up into the place I was telling you about.”

“The area with the gem walls?” asked Legolas.

“Yes,” chuckled Gimli. “I thought I’d put it a bit more eloquently than that, but I suppose you can never trust an elf to properly put into words the beauty of what lies beneath stone.”

“As I recall, your first poetic line about the Fangorn scenery was, correct me if I’m wrong,” Legolas switched to a fake dwarven accent before continuing, “‘Well, it is a bit green, isn’t it?’”

They both dissolved into laughter which echoed off the walls even after they had stopped. 

“Aye, you have me there," admitted Gimli, "Though I do think I made up for my earlier attempts later on.”

Legolas smiled, recalling the poem that Gimli composed as they dined by a waterfall. It was as lovely as those written about Greenwood the Great in the Second Age by famous poets. He would be embarrassed at his comparative ineptitude with words, but Gimli’s skill was one of the things that attracted him.

“And here we are,” Gimli said with a definitive air.

Legolas straightened and looked around in the dark. He could make out the rough forms of the cave walls, but could not see any shimmer from the lantern's light, nor any other indication that the walls were special in any way.

“This is it?” he asked, letting his hand slip free of Gimli’s as he spun around to get a closer look.

“Aye. Give me a moment and I’ll show you just how special it is.”

Legolas ran his hand along the cool hard walls and waited as Gimli went to a spot in the center of the cave. Gimli lit a candle using the one in the lantern. Legolas saw him adjusting some sort of mechanism, but he did not approach. 

Small beams of light began to shine out of the contraption as Gimli continued his work. Then suddenly, as if all at once, the room was filled with light. It illuminated the walls, which shimmered with a pale blue green. 

Hands flew to Legolas’ face as he took in the sight all around him. It was like the ocean had been turned solid upon the walls of the cave. “What... what is it?” he asked, still awestruck. "It's so beautiful."

“Aquamarine,” Gimli answered, returning to Legolas’ side.

“I can't believe how lovely it is. How did you find it in the dark?”

“Any dwarf worth his beard can hear the singing of precious stones. They call to us even in the darkest parts of the earth. When I came through here, I knew at once that there was something worth seeing here.”

“Truly, I see why you liked these caves so well,” Legolas said, taking up Gimli’s hand in his once more.

“This room is my favorite of all,” said Gimli, squeezing the slender fingers reassuringly.

Legolas turned to him. “Why this room? I thought you said there was a room ahead full of gold and rubies.”

“Because,” Gimli replied sounding half in a trance, “these walls, their deep color, remind me of your eyes.”

Ai, Meleth!” exclaimed Legolas, running his free hand through the underside of Gimli’s beard. “May your beard grow as long as your tongue is clever.”

Gimli smiled and pulled Legolas down for a kiss. “Ekespu menu men o targu men,” Gimli sighed softly.

“Will you not tell me what that means?”

“No need to worry. It's just a term of endearment,” replied Gimli, leaning in for another kiss. “It just doesn't translate well.”

Legolas was disappointed that Gimli would not tell him what the words meant, but staring into those deep emerald eyes, he would be content in the knowledge that Gimli was offering him endearments at all. 

His lips met Gimli’s again and all fears slipped from his mind.  
\-----

Legolas waited in Minas Tirith while Gimli went on as errand to obtain a contract for more granite for use in the expansion of a new district to the city. It was lonely to be without his dwarf for so long and since Aragorn and Arwen were busy with their responsibilities ruling, Legolas was left to busy himself with tasks around the white city. 

He spent most of his time tending to the gardens that he had helped designed. Legolas filled his days with caring for the plants he had watched grow from seedlings, training vines onto trellises and trimming trees and bushes to have a good shape for catching the sunlight. But the long days did little to calm his sore heart. 

On the third week, he ran into familiar face in the market place. 

“Tauriel!” he exclaimed, embracing her fondly. 

“Hîr vuin!” she cried in delight, returning the gesture with equal enthusiasm. 

“I did not think to meet you here,” he explained, “It has been so many years.”

She nodded. “Too many.”

He agreed. It was good to see her well.

Tauriel took his hand and led him to a tavern off the market square. After they ordered tea, she leaned forward across the small table, scrutinizing his features. “What is it that troubles you?” she asked in Sylvan. 

“No more than one would expect. Rebuilding after war is never without its anxieties,” Legolas replied easily, taking his cup as the barmaid set down a tray of their teas and assorted sweets. 

Tauriel added honey to her cup of tea, not looking at him while she stirred. “I would not have expected you to lie to me, even given what happened.” 

The hurt was obvious on her face. 

“It is a personal matter,” Legolas explained, pausing as he sipped his tea, “Nothing to trouble old friends about.”

“That is precisely the type of person you should lay your troubles on,” answered Tauriel, raising her eyes to meet his. “Who else knows you better?”

Legolas leaned on a propped up elbow and admired Tauriel’s earnest look. It brought back many pleasant memories from home. “Perhaps you could help,” he said at last, “You have some experience in such matters, after all.”

Tauriel beamed. “So it is about your dwarf then, is it?”

He nodded. 

“Arguments about where to live?” asked Tauriel around a bite of tea cake. 

“Nothing so serious,” Legolas replied. “It is a small matter.”

“He does not like how you braid your hair, then? I can show you how to do a simple braid in the dwarven style.”

“No, no.” Legolas stared down into his cup. “There are times when he speaks to me in Dwarvish. Or he will say something aloud in dwarvish that I am not meant to hear. Yet, when I question him, he never explains the meaning of his words. I care deeply for him, of course, but my small doubts are stirred at times like that.”

Tauriel looked surprised. “What doubts could you have? The way you have spoken of his character in your letters, there can be no question of his feelings.”

“I do not doubt that he cares,” said Legolas, “only, I am not sure how he will feel later on. We have shared many intimate moments, but I don't know if dwarves proceed in their relationships in the same way as we do. Do they, like men, sometimes take many lovers, experiencing several romances before they settle on just one? I long to ask Gimli of such matters, but I do not wish to spoil our precious little time together with such quandaries. I do not want him to take offense, not to think that I might question his feelings.”

Tauriel laughed at him, and for a moment he felt that perhaps he should not have been so open about his and Gimli's relationship. 

“My oldest and dearest friend,” said Tauriel, her voice full of mirth, “you worry far too much. While it is true that dwarves sometimes will take many lovers, it is only because they are searching for their one. And while joining one’s body to another is not an act of consummating marriage, few will participate with one they do not wish to marry in future.”

Legolas listened intently, his fears abiding, but not vanquished. He knew he should not doubt Gimli's love, but intrusive thoughts kept prodding him. 

“To be so intimate with an elf, would mean that Gimli must truly love you. This, I know from experience,” Tauriel said. 

“And what of the words he will not share the meaning of with me?” 

Legolas lifted his head as warm hands took his. “If you are that worried, I shall teach you something in Khuzdul to say to him. It should make your feelings clear to him and I doubt once he has heard you speak in the secret language, that he would keep his words from you again. 

“Thank you,” he said, smiling at Tauriel and squeezing her hands in delight. “Teach me everything you know.”  
\-----

“ I am returned,” Legolas heard Gimli call from the parlor of the home they had been given by Aragorn for their visit. 

He sprinted out to where Gimli stood, still laden with his traveling gear, and threw his arms around him. As was dwarvish custom the Gimli taught him, they pressed their foreheads together. 

“My, what's this? There's a spry elfling that seems to have fallen into my arms. Whatever shall I do with him? It would be rude, would it not, to give him a small kiss upon the cheek?” teased Gimli. 

“On the contrary,” corrected Legolas, “it would rude not to. But if you are opposed, I hear a kiss on the lips are considered a place of great respect.”

Gimli chuckled. “Is that so? Well, I wouldn't want to be rude. Here’s your kiss, elfling.”

When their lips met after so long apart, it made Legolas feel whole again. It was like coming up for air after diving in the Running River. 

As they unloaded Gimli’s belongings, Legolas asked, “How was your journey? Did Arod behave well? Were the negotiations successful?”

Gimli sat upon his chair by the fire. “Oh yes, everything went well. Very well, in fact. My father’s friend, Bofur, who I'm sure you remember, plays cards with the man who owns the quarry. He was happy to give an honest dwarf a fair price and I convinced him to talk to the others in the merchants guild about expanding their presence in the markets here.”

“I am sure the King will be pleased to hear it,” said Legolas, going and rubbing Gimli’s broad shoulders. 

“Who knows, I may even finally be able to get my hands on some decent Karl at last. I would be….” Gimli trailed off as Legolas found a particularly knotted spot on the left shoulder blade.  
Gimli's silence was gratifying. At least Legoas' careful ministrations were more important than the thought of sausages drowned in gravy until you couldn’t even taste them.

“I’m glad to have you back,” Legolas whispered into Gimli’s ear.

“I can tell. You’re giving me quite the warm reception," purred Gimli in response. "Were you really so unoccupied during my absence?”

“There is nothing that can take up enough time to fill the void you leave when you are away, Meleth,” Legolas said.

Gimli smiled. “You are being unusually poetic tonight. Is there an occasion I am neglecting to remember?”

Legolas slid his fingers forward across Gimli’s chest. “Only your return.”

“If you treat me so well, I may take such journeys more often.”

Legolas moved to the front of Gimli. “Do not tease me so cruelly. There aren’t enough mature trees here to talk to keep me from growing bored.”

“Alright, I concede the point,” Gimli said with a laugh. Then he gazed intently at Legolas. “You are very beautiful. For an elf, that is.”

It was a joke, of course, but it made Legolas hesitate. He could hear the words that Tauriel had taught him and now seemed as good a time as any to try them. What if he were to say something wrong? He did not want to embarrass himself further. And yet, it seemed the only way.

“Legolas?”

He turned his attention back to Gimli. “Yes?”

“You seemed far away for a moment. Is everything alright?” asked Gimli with concern.

Legolas nodded. “Just thinking.”

Gimli pulled his smoking box out and set it on the table next to his chair.

It was now or never, Legolas decided.

He reached over and shut the box, causing Gimli to look to him with confusion. Without missing a beat he crawled into Gimli’s lap.

“I’ve been thinking,” he pronounced, pinned Gimli in his seat.

“So you said. Anything I should be aware of?”

“Gimli, Men eleneku menu o bepap opetu ezirak. Ala men lananubukhs menu,” he said, looking deep into Gimli’s eyes.

“Those words…. Where did you learn Khuzdul?” said Gimli, his voice tense. 

The dwarf’s face grew suddenly red. Legolas instantly regretted having said it. He had hoped that he had not made a mistake in his speaking, but perhaps even just uttering the words was an insult.

“I met Tauriel a month back in the market. I asked her to teach me some dwarvish that she knew….”

“I see…,” Gimli replied, noncommittally.

Legolas turned away, disappointed. “I mean the words. Even if I have said them wrong or should not have spoken them at all.”

“Legolas, gi melin,” Gimli said, his dwarvish accent making the words more exciting to behold. “But why choose now to tell me? You must already know from all our time together that this is how I feel.”

“Lately I have been worried,” he admitted, nervously. “Worried that perhaps you will grow tired of my unchanging face. Or of my elven manners. That perhaps you care for me, but not enough to want to commit all of your short life to me.”

Gimli smiled and took Legolas’ face in his hands, pulling it down to place his forehead against Legolas’. “I will never grow tired of your beautiful unchanging face. Nor will I stop liking you for or in spite of, your silly elvish ways. I am happy to commit myself to you for the rest of the time I have left on this earth. Though, of course, I hope it be a long life.”

Legolas felt great happiness in his heart. A wave of relief washing over him. “So why would you not tell me all your beautiful words?”

Gimli bit his lips and turned slightly away. “In truth, I thought you might find it silly.”

“Find what silly?” Legolas asked.

“The little things I say when you make me so happy,” Gimli answered.

“Why? Are they particularly amusing?”

“Well, they are romantic in the Khuzdul. However, I think you would find their translation into Westron less so,” Gimli explained, running his thick fingers through the ends of Legolas’ hair.

“With as gilded a tongue as yours, I expect the singing of the Valar would sound less beautiful.”

Gimli exploded into laughter. “Well, with a compliment like that, how can I say no. From now on I will tell you what my words mean, alright? I promise.”

“Good,” said Legolas, brushing Gimli’s lips with a finger. “Now, shall we retire to our bed so I can finish welcoming you home?”

“M’imnu Durin,” said Gimli, his voice low and lusty, "Izbid men.”

Legolas needed no translation with that tone of voice as he slid off of Gimli’s lap and lead him to their bedroom.


End file.
